


The Young Wolf

by shutitloveactually



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: A very strange relationship, Established Relationship, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, Werewolf action
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutitloveactually/pseuds/shutitloveactually
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie is a werewolf and thinks his secret is safe.  Not from a certain Mr Tucker it isn't...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Solving the Mystery

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback very welcome as I've never gone in a supernatural direction before!

It wasn’t his increased anger around the time of the full moon, nor was it his even more dishevelled than usual look the night after that made Malcolm suspicious. What finally piqued his interest was the broken furniture in Jamie’s flat and bits of foliage he spotted in the younger man’s hair one morning in the shower. He said nothing though, thinking it best not to arouse suspicion that he was on to Jamie’s wee secret.

The next full moon came around and Jamie duly changed from his usual yappy, wide eyed terrier self into a full on, vicious feral beast, yet Malcolm still didn’t confront Jamie and took a perverse delight in watching him reduce even the most hard hearted bastards in government to tears. It was nice to have someone else do the shouting every once in a while he mused as he leaned back in his chair, even though more employees than usual were nursing superficial wounds these days. He was sitting at his desk, mulling over the plan he’d hatched for this evening when Jamie came sauntering in, bubbling with more angry energy than usual.

“A’right, Malc?” he grinned, throwing himself into a chair and his legs over the armrest. “Four people cryin’ in the toilets and another two who flinch at the sight of me equals a fuckin’ good day at the office. Thank fuck fur Friday though. All this hard work really takes it out of ye,” Jamie said, scratching at his curls.

“Hey! Feet off the fuckin’ furniture, ya uncultured bawbag. D’ye treat yer own furniture like that?” Malcolm growled at him, already knowing the answer to that. “Anyway, are ye comin’ round tonight?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Naw. Stuff t’do, people tae see and that. Busy tomorrow?” Jamie asked, stretching and yawning, feet still over the armrest.

“Nothin’ planned, no. You’re comin’ round to mine though, I can’t stand that plague pit you call a home any more,” Malcolm replied. “How can ye live like that? There’s more fuckin’ culture in your kitchen sink than the British Museum.”

“Ach, it’s not so bad once ye get used to it. Maybe Ah should get a cleaner though, it would be nice to know where the remote fur the telly is,” Jamie mused. “Fine, your house it is. Ah’ll bring the Dettol, aye? Wouldn’t want tae besmirch your lovely surfaces.” Jamie glanced at his watch and grimaced. “Buggery fucking shite, is that the time? Got tae go, see ye the morra, Malc!” he cried as he jumped up out of the chair and left the office with haste.

“Aye, see ye” Malcolm called after him. He’d caught an unfamiliar emotion in Jamie’s face there – worry? Trepidation? A sense of urgency was there too. “The plot thickens,” he declared to the empty room as he started getting ready for that evening’s reconnaissance mission.

____________________

Epping forest. The moon was already fairly high in a dark, clear sky when Jamie got to his usual spot, who was thankful that he’d only just made it. He decided that being out in the open was much preferable to demolishing his flat every month; the less people around, the better. Although Jamie was more than partial to a bit of violence at work, he was at heart a thoughtful person and never liked to hurt the civilians, i.e. anyone who didn’t work in government.

A good Catholic boy despite it all, Jamie always made time to go north and see his maw at least twice a year. He took regular walks when back home, communing with the Scottish wilderness to cleanse his body of the smog and fug of London. He’d been sitting by the banks of Loch Lomond with his lunch when the werewolf had attacked him from behind, never standing a chance. Luckily a couple who had been boating on the loch had spotted him and taken him to hospital, putting the attack down to a wildcat (what else could it have been? A wolf? Ha ha, very funny!). Once he’d healed, the resulting scars were easy enough to explain away given Jamie’s physical nature.

It was easy enough to keep the secret afterwards, the mood swings and extra anger around the full moon being dismissed as Jamie being Jamie. It was also not uncommon for him to look like shit warmed up, nobody batting an eyelid at his rumpled clothing and dirty fingernails. He was terrified about what Malcolm would say, though; he loved the auld bastard and really didn't know what he'd do if Malcolm decided he didn't want anything to do with someone who turned into another fuckin' species every 28 days.

Jamie glanced up again at the moon as it started to light the evening sky. “Fuck, Ah’ve left this too late again,” he cursed, hurriedly taking his clothes off and stashing them in his little hidey hole full of emergency supplies. “There’s got tae be a better way than this.” He liked to hunt the herds of deer that roamed the forest, but always brought an emergency slab of meat with him just in case. That was thrown randomly into the woods for him to find later.

The moon had by now risen fully, the satellite shining brightly through the autumn foliage. As the moonlight hit Jamie’s naked body, he started to change; the casual observer might have commented on how it looked as if Jamie was having a massive fit of rage while his body sneezed into another shape. Nails grew, hair sprouted and limbs became elongated. His ears became more pointed and upright and his nose grew into a snout as he roared and howled. Transformation complete, the burly white haired wolf sniffed the air and bounded off into the woods in search of prey.

“Fucking fuck me,” Malcolm breathed from the safety of a nearby tree, lowering the binoculars.


	2. No Secrets Between Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm comes to terms with what he's just witnessed. Jamie comes to terms with Malcolm's discovery.

Once his feral lieutenant was safely out of sight (and scent, he fervently hoped) Malcolm slipped through the woods and back to his car, stunned at what he’d just witnessed. “A fuckin’ werewolf, of course he is,” he muttered as he stumbled through the trees. Totally lost for words and out of his depth, this was an unfamiliar and unwelcome experience. All he knew at that moment was he had to get home to think about what he’d witnessed; hanging around in the dark woods with a psychotic, lupine force of nature was not an ideal place to mull things over.

Emerging from the trees and onto the road, he looked around carefully as he fumbled for his car keys for any sign of Jamie - the last thing he wanted (other than being ripped to shreds) was to be discovered. He was sure Jamie would flip spectacularly when he found out his secret had been rumbled and Malcolm wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle him in human form. Jamie was ferocious in every aspect of his life and the two men had had some epic fights through the years over the slightest thing, so Malcolm decided that some careful planning was needed here.

The drive back to London was a long one. Malcolm drove in silence, mulling things over as he made his way home on the quiet roads. How the fuck was this even possible? How long had Jamie been a wolf? How had he managed to keep his secret for so long? Why hadn’t he noticed the signs before now? Does the wolf dictate his character? Is this why Jamie is such a fuckin’ animal in bed? He grinned wryly as he pondered the last question, remembering some of their more spectacular nights together. Malcolm started to feel a lot better as a plan slowly started to come together, feeling much better as he turned the car into his street. Once inside, he put the coffee machine on and fired up his laptop.

\--------------------

Jamie was like a pig in shit. He had grown to love his monthly transformation; the sights, sounds and scent of the forest occupants was a feast for the senses. He mainly hunted on Change Night, although sometimes he was content just to find a good vantage point and drink in the awesome spectrum of sensations his eyes, ears and nose offered him. Tonight he’d discovered some campers as he prowled through the vegetation, immensely enjoying the sexual antics of one couple, eagerly watching them clamber all over each other by the light of their campfire. He could feel his own erection stirring, but with a distinct lack of lady wolves on the horizon he would have to take care of himself tomorrow.

Feeling extremely horny as he slunk away from the campsite, he explored the woods further to take his mind off his cock as the full moon worked its way through the clear night sky. Jamie wasn’t much of a thinker at the best of times, so having his human mind dimmed by the wolf didn’t really bother him. However, once he reverted back to human form he was able to remember his time as a wolf and his senses stayed wolf sharp for a few days, which came in very fuckin’ handy in his line of work.

Feeling contented but tired, Jamie retired to his den as the sky started to lighten and curled up to sleep, leg twitching as he dreamed of chasing rabbits.

Morning came and Jamie awoke in his human form. He stood up unsteadily and stretched, wondering why he always felt so wobbly after one night on all fours as he yawned noisily. Relieving himself against a tree, Jamie had to fight the urge to cock one leg as he pissed. His basic waking needs taken care of, Jamie hauled his bag of clothes out and got dressed, splashing his face and hair with water from his stash. Running his hands through his curls, Jamie shouldered his backpack and made his way through the woods as he chewed on a suspicious looking sandwich.

Whistling tunelessly as he passed by a burly oak tree, Jamie suddenly paused and sniffed.

The unmistakable scent of his boss was plastered all over the trunk.

“Aw fuck, no,” he moaned, his back sliding down the trunk as he sunk to the forest floor. He sat there for a while with his head in his hands, weeping. It wasn’t that he minded being discovered, it was more who had discovered him. What if the auld cunt didn’t want anything more to do with him? He wasn’t sure he could handle losing Malcolm, but he knew with a heavy heart that he had to face him. His imagination raced with how their meeting would end, convinced that his relationship with Malcolm was over. He thumped the tree in frustration, cutting open his hand but not noticing in his highly charged state of mind.

Jamie somehow managed to pull himself together and made his way to the car, his shirt covered with blood. He managed to make it home in one piece, too upset to engage in his usual road rage along the M25, collapsing through the front door in his hurry to get to the kitchen and the whisky bottle.

It was almost as if Malcolm had psychic powers; as soon as Jamie had glugged his way through a quarter of the bottle, his mobile started to ring. “Shitting fucking bastarding shit,” Jamie swore as he stared at the name MALCOLM glowing brightly on the screen. He knew he had to answer, but still he held the phone at arm’s length as he pressed Answer, acting for all the world as if Malcolm would reach through the screen and strangle him.

“Good mornin’, Jamie,” Malcolm drawled down the line. “Busy night? I notice that you’re no’ at work today, is everything alright?”

Jamie could practically see Malcolm’s evil grin through the ether. “Naw, think Ah’ve come down wi’ a cold or somethin’,” hereplied unconvincingly, a slight wobble in his voice. “D’ye mind if Ah work from home today? Don’t want tae spread ma germs all over the office.”

Malcolm’s long, drawn-out intake of breath was doing Jamie’s already frayed nerves no favours. He almost hit the roof when his boss finally replied “Oh, Ah suppose so, though some people could be doin’ with your charms today. Ye could work on the MoD stuff for me, but Ah want hourly progress reports ya wee scrote. Nae skivin’, right?”

“Nae bother,” Jamie breathed, visibly shaking as he fought to keep his mind together. “Ah’ve got some phonecalls tae make this mornin’ but Ah’ll keep ye in the loop.”

“Aye, you better. Come round to mine tonight, make it around 7. We can go over what ye’ve been up tae.” Malcolm hung up, leaving Jamie a quivering wreck as he stood in the kitchen, whisky bottle dangling from one hand.

\--------------------

Jamie stood on Malcolm’s doorstep for several minutes before knocking. He’d never felt so anxious in his life as he loitered there, sick to the stomach with worry and fear. If he lost Malcolm, he’d lost everything and he wasn’t sure if he could handle that. Jamie never did anything by halves, and his relationship with Malcolm was no different. He loved the skinny fucker with all his heart and despite their arguments and fights, together they were an unstoppable force both professionally and with each other.

“Well, it’s now or fuckin’ never. Keep it thegither, MacDonald,” he muttered, taking a deep breath and pounding on the glass of the door, images of returning home to dreary Motherwell and sitting on some provincial newsdesk running through his frazzled brain.

Malcolm answered the door, looking relaxed in jeans and a T-shirt (he’d changed into old clothes in preparation, deciding that if they came to blows he was fucked if he was ruinin’ another of his good suits). One look at his forlorn looking lover, however, and he knew everything.

“Come in, ya daft wee cunt,” Malcolm said gently as he ushered Jamie in.

Once the door was closed he flung his arms around the younger man, crushing him in a bear hug of an embrace. Jamie returned the hug, blinking back the tears. He knew then that everything was going to be alright.

Malcolm broke their embrace, holding Jamie by the shoulders at arm’s length. “Why didn’t ye tell me?” He asked, watching the stress wash from his lover’s face.

“Well, it’s no really the sort o’thing that comes out in normal conversation, eh? Hiya, how was your day? Oh by the way, Ah’m a werewolf so hide the weans,” Jamie shrugged. “Ah was scared ye’d run for the hills.”

“Aye, it’s not every day ye found out someone can turn intae another fuckin’ species,” Malcolm conceded. “However, we’re a team are we not? Nae secrets, nae surrender, right?” he grinned. “Nearly fell out that fuckin’ tree when Ah saw ye, but Ah knew somethin’ was up and it was gonnae be big. So, yer a werewolf. Come through, we’ll have some dinner and ye can tell me all about it. Don’t worry, it’s not venison,” he joked.

“Get tae fuck”, Jamie replied, his stomach rumbling at the delicious smell of food. He could literally feel his worries falling off his shoulders. as he followed Malcolm to the kitchen.


End file.
